


Lolitas

by graspthesanity



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graspthesanity/pseuds/graspthesanity
Summary: A divorce leaves Axel with the keys to his ex-wife's world, one equally dangerous yet alluring to the adult man suddenly coming to terms with his sexuality and taboo desires.
Relationships: Axel/Larxene (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

I wish time would stop, even in places where it already has. Where it has ceased to exist. I wake up drowsy and we each take separate sides of the bed, almost synchronised to stand up and put the covers together. I don't bother anymore. It's strange how I always felt that this relationship was phony, that I was the liar and it never even managed to make it to my turn to roll the dice.

Now time froze, as I was left in the apartment, as my ex-wife was packing her bags, evidence going into my hands and my own evidence didn't exist, because I couldn't dare to try men. I wouldn't even do more than what had been done before marriage.

I just held onto my vows, as she cheated on me with another man, saying that I was too boring, too bland and I would imagine... All the faces I'd see logged on a different network and cell phone, masturbating and having sex with guys. Even then she didn't pay attention to that. She just ignored it, the trial was all about semen, another guy's semen who had been on the walls one day, and infidelity had cost her sanity and my inheritance.

And so today... She was gone. Without a word, furious, blonde hair styled as always. I pressed my ear against the door for what seemed hours and no tears slipped by, the ringing kept going on and on. Our friends have taken her side, even if she had been cheating all this time.

I slowly shaved and wondered... What if my hand slipped? How much blood would flow until I would see it dripping down the pipes?

I always wondered why people stood their unloved partner even longer. But then… everyone had a different pain and tolerance limit. It wasn’t that love was some BDSM romance game. I ruffled through the vinyls that she had left. There was a small green notebook, which had something written in with some pages torn out and other glued in. It appeared to have photos and it seemed very worn. I flipped it over to see the front of it. 

Lolitas

It had been rubbed off, but it was still etched into the faux leather of the notebook. 

My hands started shaking. 

What now?

Was she trying to say that I had been fucking kids? I had been with men give or take a year. I hastily opened the notebook indeed to find… nymphs. No, they were older. They were borderline. Just barely reaching the age of consent and all had described their encounters with their own, I assumed handwriting… How they had lost their virginity to different men. All were young boys. 

I sat there horrified. Had she gotten out of it? Did she leave it like her past life behind?

Had I-

No… I had nothing to do with this sickness. There were even young ones. I didn´t even dare to open the last pages. For some reason it all began from the ending, the first page was a blonde with 15 years of age. 

He… was a rentboy now, who enjoyed the company of-

I closed it shut. I threw it back in the vinyl box. 

Maybe it was someone else’s. 

Who the fuck was even taking care of these… Lolitas? 

Images kept flashing of some in different clothing, some were even raising money to get out, some to transition, there were a few trans ones and others were deeply homeless. Some had lavish lives but a large sexual appetite. Everything was written in gruesome detail. 

Some were desperate and some were horrifyingly young. There was no leader or sign of one. It was just a catalogue of where to find them and what they do, what they’ve done. 

I ended up reading until moonlight turned to daylight, finding that the last entry had been done just a day before my wife left. But if she catered for paedophiles who were gay… I didn’t even want to think that she could’ve offered me one of them or thought that I was paedo. 

I just sat there, looking at the last entry. 

“Had sex. Felt bored. Want something new.” 

I prayed that the blond 15-year-old found something else. My hands shook as I thought of delivering it to the police. My record wasn’t exactly clean from my own teenage years of anarchy and vandalism, fighting fights which meant nothing to anyone now. I couldn’t be framed as a paedophile for sure, yet that still left a metallic taste in my mouth. I could feel their heels in my mouth, spitting. 

I wondered and hoped that the entries would stop in a new notebook. 

For some reason I kept thinking in my sleep about the 15-year-old. I had where to find all of them and maybe I could help him. But I had been too disgusted to even masturbate all this time since she left. Maybe this was a trick. Was it twisted? What if she just linked all gay men to paedophiles? I didn’t know. 

I elbowed the light switch the next night and looked at my pale frame in the middle. 

I dropped my boxers down and looked down, I was rather… gifted. I pressed myself against an empty wall, so I could see myself, as if I was a teenager, discovering my body. That was they were all doing. 

What had I done in my teenage years?

Survive. 

I was sleepy. Even if I slept the whole day today. I screamed when I came, having a hallucination of every streak of cum harshly landing on the blonde boy’s open sultry mouth and cheeks, tousled hair. 

I jerked and slipped, catching myself by the ends of the washing machine, which still left a bruise on my leg.

She really was gone. 

Nothing had gotten me off. 

Did it matter if he was the seller himself?

“Does it matter?” I remember reading in an interview with a musician, who had slept with a very young prostitute. 

I can’t. I can’t. 

He picks up. Mumbles an address without me even doing anything, without me even opening my mouth. I wanted to scream back at him, to enjoy the moment, which is now before things get worse… But things already have, haven´t they? 

Things change with time. I remember when I was doing my sentence the guy who I shared a cell with, he told me that he had killed his boyfriend who simply didn’t want them to be out in front of his family. It drove him up the wall. I had no idea of the circumstances, but he managed to look up at me and ask what I would have done. 

I said that I wasn’t gay, which was a huge surprise for him. He told me that it would take some time but I’ll discover it sooner or later, to which I gave a rather nervous laugh. I had no idea. What would’ve I done? I kept walking, since it was within reasonable distance, and I wondered… what would I do? If I do end up discovering myself as gay… I had a notebook full of teenagers who weren’t accepted by their families. Was sex life the solution to it all? Some enjoyed it but why does freedom have such a high price? Why couldn’t anything teach us that cages are always the worst?

He was one eyed, as his lover had managed to cause significant damage to his eye while he was trying to kill him. I wonder how much anger he had felt and how long had that thing been bottled up to kill one’s lover. He delivered the body to the family too, snapping at them, all drenched in blood. 

‘Here’s what you taught your son.’ 

It was a full nightclub, so I saw him at the bar, chatting to no one and sipping on some alcohol, of course there was alcohol there, right? Alcohol with Coke or Pepsi, whatever the venue mixed. I wondered if these kids still managed to hide some felonies or recent actions from the book of Lolitas. I wondered where life would lead all of them. 

I could feel my whole body go numb. I was tired, I kept staring at him, up to the point that Roxas, the kid, started feeling awkward that I wasn’t approaching him. I felt like I was looking at everything through a cold foggy window, letting snow engulf me and no flame would ever light me again. I was not meant to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to leave. 

I couldn’t understand all of my thinking. Memories were blinding me like lights and I could feel pain all over my body as I walked over to Roxas, who seemed to have rolled his eyes as a ‘finally’ gesture. Great. I wouldn’t get out of this. 

I bought him a drink. 

He bought me two, enough to make sure that I was eased up, but we barely talked. In fact, we didn’t talk at all. I knew who he was and Roxas knew who I was. I slid money to him under the table and we headed into the men’s. 

He hungrily jumped at me, muttering something that was probably better said beforehand when we were trying to discuss everything over loud music. I couldn’t stop and realize that this was the downfall I was creating. I wasn’t just sinking, I was shooting myself in the head and watching all the people scream, shudder but no one calling the police, because of what I was now. 

I kissed him stronger than his initial kiss, taking him by surprise. 

He was a professional. 

But I seemed to have opened a hunger, that I had not known. It was like opening a wound to reach out for the bullet, only in this case to place it and hoping that it were a bomb which would explode. 

By the end Roxas was tired and sore. He was about to leave, but I caught his wrist and tried to at least make some sense of myself and him. 

“Roxas, you should stop this!” I didn’t even know how could these words escape my mouth, when we were both dishevelled and Roxas grinned, laughing darkly, looking down, only his shoulders shaking by this time. 

“This… This is what it’s like and you’re part of it now… Axel.” And he left, as I stood there fixing my jeans and knowing that I had to do something other than having sex with a teenager at my age. I shuddered at myself and eventually I vomited and wondered how long did it take for Roxas to get used to creeps like me? Probably an eternity. But I couldn’t find him outside the club, so I just hitched a cab ride home. 

“How was it?” The taxi driver asked me, as if he had known, but instead curiosity had sparked in his eyes, wondering what 1001 tales I would tell, but I kept quiet, biting my lip and pressing my forehead heavily against the window of the car, wanting to cry and scream, but

it was all me. 


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn’t help but think of Roxas, as I stopped hearing from my wife, besides the last signing of the divorce papers. I felt tainted. It’s been a while since I had fucked a child. Sometimes, I would correct myself to teenager, but that only made the situation worse. I didn’t read his entire file. I wanted to flush down the whole notebook, where it should belong. But every time I would daze out… I could’ve felt my ex-wife smirk at me. I felt like it was an elaborate prank. 

“All gays are paedophiles!” She had yelled with a crash of the vase, this had been her plan all along. It felt horrible, because it was stinging under my skin and when I would bare it I would just see it’s flow directly to Roxas again, as if I was a blood donor. My blood to his. I could see the plastic chairs and holding balloons to get better. 

But how would he get better?

No home… No family… The truly homeless youth who struggle with poverty, even if they sneak their way inside a house and pay rent with their bodies… It’s a reality no one wants. Counting meals. It made me shudder of my own family’s poverty, while growing up. 

Maybe it was because I couldn’t do much. Isn’t that what attracted Herbert to Lolita? Her youth? What he had missed? I don’t know. I didn’t want to Google, I didn’t want to check the book. I just wanted to be left alone. Was he polluting my mind or was I letting him in? How could he pollute…? He wasn’t dirty, I was. 

Was it society’s faulty that we were all drawn to the youth? I flipped through it again, all the ages questionable because I didn’t want to read them. I wanted to see them as something else. Angels? No, they were tarnished by humanity. Female, male clients, it doesn’t matter what they had to suck on. It was about the price, the high price everyone paid for a discreet fuck with a child up to a teenager nearly of age. 

What was it that attracted everyone?

The androgynous shapes? The innocence which didn’t pass in their eyes. Some looked empty, like the vast memories of being bullied by children. Sometimes even now you can get scared by the youth. But why were we scared of death? Why did we believe in a fountain of immortality? It was immoral. 

But I felt like I’ve broken the wall, with a strong hammer. 

It was all over. 

I felt like I could be as a mugshot in papers, being accused of paedophilia. 

Is this what I had fallen to?

But then there were priests who were paedos. 

How did God deal with all the Vatican scandals? I closed my eyes recalling a story of a child’s photo… He had started selling limbs to get eaten. He wanted to atone. The notes were here with the acts. As I read more carefully, I saw that plenty of them were deceased. Gone. Sold even. 

Was a child a price?

How would… they escape?

What happened when these eyes became of age and saw that they were no longer wanted by those who pet their bums? They all had an expiry date. 

Roxas’ was approaching. 

What would he do?

Maybe that’s why he lured so many people in… So many entries in the past few years. Fear, writing becoming ineligible. Did my wife force them all to write these accounts? Who exactly was she? Fuck.

I couldn’t keep reading the descriptions, depression messing with my mind up to the point that I opened the window, looking below onto the street. It wasn’t high enough to jump. I wanted to bleed onto the brick frame of the building. I wanted to howl out. 

Memories would start creeping onto me like shadows, I thought of Roxas far too often, how different it felt to feel a smooth body, something which a twink would usually yearn for, a quick tongue in cheek disguise to say that it’s all legal. But why were we attracted? I got hard thinking of stroking his back as I would fuck him. His tight ass. How he would stretch. How good he felt. I didn’t even need to use a condom, when I had to with my wife. Was that all the appeal? That everything was aloud? Was that how we would walk into the end of the world? But paedophilia could be traced to God knows when. When did we start considering it wrong and why? Why did everything felt like it was all upside down. 

I called Roxas, listening to his silence before he spoke up, not revealing anything about his profession and soon enough he dropped the call. Why couldn’t I even think of anything pure? I called him again, inviting him over, but instead he rushed me to the bedroom, undoing his pants, as I stayed on my knees. He revealed his nicely sized penis and I took it into my mouth, helping it grow as I was playing with myself. I let myself enjoy this under the disguise that I was giving him pleasure too and he was fucking my mouth until he didn’t hold and released all his semen down my throat. 

“Pay up.” He said coldly and rubbing his neck, as he pulled his tight jeans up. I wondered if he enjoyed shopping, just to dull the pain, walking through labyrinths of malls as brands would go in and out of fashion, as trends moved on even without blinking. 

“Sure.” And I jumped on him, pushing him against the mattress. He sighed but was hard. I undid his pants again. I couldn’t control myself. I was giving in into whatever demon which I was now. I fucked him raw again, he was sore again. Orgasm was bliss with his tight ass and how he would contract and ejaculate himself. He had pleasure, right? 

But if he didn’t… Should I have cared?

I was insatiable. 

I paid him the money and Roxas, kept his head down, took it, without even counting the extra I added for the fucking fee. It was a hefty amount, since he was one of those who charged a lot, probably to avoid creeps like me who would want him a lot, maybe that would leave him without a lot of clients during the weeks. 

“How is it?” I asked, my throat completely dry. 

“It only bothers when you think of the age.” He said suddenly, his eyes dark. The kid was making a living and like others… had a concern of what would happen after his youth would fade. That’s what he kept writing about, it seemed like a screech of help, a desire to die when young, because what would happen when his youth was truly withered and discarded?

“Then you realize that the person is a paedophile.” He said every word carefully, shifting from leg to leg. Then he looked down at his checkered sneakers. “I probably shouldn’t be talking or blaming you…”

He ruffled the notes in his hands. 

“But I don’t want to see you anymore. I like… keeping the faces different.” Bullshit. He liked the same ones. I couldn’t say that I had his entries, which would even show up somewhat like magic, even if I had sworn to myself that it was only blank pages from his last entry to the next child. 

His dark blue eyes tinted something dark, but I just bit my lip-

Why stop when you can sin forever?  
“Can I ask why?” I asked. 

“Would you want to sleep with a paedophile?” He answered simply, not thinking too deep. 

“Isn’t it your job?” I offered the reply on a broken plate, which he didn’t even seem to be looking at. I was sitting on the bed, completely naked, while he was dressing up in front of me. 

“It is.” He replied simply. “And I want to end it…”

“You have no education.” He pulled the sweater over. “You have no job opportunities.” He adjusts his belt. “You are an illegal child worker who has nothing-”

He glared at me. 

“Besides a possible criminal record, I’m guessing.” Roxas stopped in his pace, as I said that. “The country isn’t kind to rent boys.”

“What do you suggest?” He snapped. 

I wanted to smirk, but instead I gave a small smile, which really was just my cock thinking. 

“Keep doing what you’re good at. You’ll decide when you can die, later.” His eyes widened. 

I motioned for him to wait, as I went to my bedside drawer and pulled out the notebook, just to show him the cover with the Lolitas scribbled on both sides, now that I had noticed. He was now trembling. 

“Where is she?” He asked. I was surprised at the sudden question. 

“She left me with this… If that’s what you’re asking.”

He repeated his question louder and I just ignored it, watching his frustration draw red on his cheeks and take a toll on his breath. 

“We divorced.” I said. Roxas’ eyes closed and he winced, approaching a wall and without a second thought he dragged his nails against the wallpaper, ripping it, exposing the concrete underneath, making his nails scratch but he didn’t seem to care anymore. He scratched further. 

“Care to explain?” I asked, waving the notebook around, like a flag. Roxas stopped but didn’t move his head. 

“You control us, like a madam… a pimp. You see what happens to us with every, every record we ever write… Even which we think. You know of every encounter… Every gruesome detail that fate has raped us with.” He turned to me. “And you chose to fuck me.”

I remained silent, taken back. 

“You could’ve given it to authorities… You could’ve snitched on your wife… You could’ve not called me… You could’ve…” And he’s at a loss of words. “You’re just a paedophile. That’s why it’s in your lap. That’s why she gave it to you.”

“But why are you there?” I asked.   
He held his silence and we looked at each other for a while. 

“I can question why I hold this as much as why are you here, Roxas.” I confessed, but that didn’t seem to bother the blonde. 

“Because some dreams come true. Sometimes God tips the desire bowl to overflow with the sacrifice of someone else…” He paused. “It could’ve been a wish at the desire of candles on a birthday cake or a fleeting thought. Or something you wished in the dark… Since you were unhappy with your wife.”

Silence. 

“So what was it, man?” He asked. 

I looked up at him again. 

“… I don’t know. I just found the notebook and kept flicking through…” I say quietly. 

“Why a teenage boy, then?”

I swallowed roughly. 

“A fantasy, I suppose.” My mouth is dry. Some things we don’t even admit to ourselves. I wouldn’t even look into the mirror again. I looked down and ran a hand through my hair. “I saw a teacher raping a student when I was growing up…”

Roxas approached me slowly. 

“And I… I never reported it. I wondered how it would feel like… Having someone under you.” I close my eyes. “I felt like it was the only way to be gay. Forcing someone. Power dynamics… Young and old. Everything they teach you that it wrong…”

He kept listening. 

I coughed. 

“It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. The only time I had seen a male body naked… was a child’s… A teenager’s… Like yours.” I motioned. I opened my eyes to look at the disgusted Roxas. 

“But you’ll never blame society which shaped me… Which never gave me an understanding of my feelings.” I continued gesticulating. “Because society blames the outcome on the person. Society thinks that paedophiles come through themselves… Not that it’s the one that treasures youth and rape, the power of the ones beyond help.”

I give him the notebook against his chest, but he doesn’t dare to touch it. 

“It doesn’t matter what’s on the surface of my mind… Or yours.” I look up to his darkened eyes. “It’s what’s seen beyond the TV screen…”

My mouth is dry. 

“What the nuclear family will see… and judge.” I coughed to try and clear my throat. “But aren’t they an abomination too?”

I feel like the question was vague for a gay teenager and a closeted adult. How could we really know? I looked down at my hands. 

“Sometimes we want an escape from reality, maybe we don’t want what we should be perceived as the norm.” I closed my eyes, Roxas probably opened a window, because now there was a breeze, the sweat and scent of sex were something he probably wanted to get rid of. “I mean… Think of how everyone breaks up these days. How few people have children, how religious people cling to their beliefs and shout it at those who are atheist or agnostic… They understand that in order for the world to function the way they want… They have to sacrifice everything, shoving everything into a mould… Why else would they be so crazy?”

“How the fuck do you even know what a nuclear family feels like?” He snapped at me. 

I took my hair out of my eyes. 

“Because we are born into them… My wife wanted one.” Roxas seemed to have thoughts of his own. “She was your pimp, regardless. Wipe a bit at the picture of the nuclear family and you’ll see the bones of paedophilia and other heresy that it’s built on. Marital rape, abuse, child trauma… That’s just the Cerberus of hell.” 

“And what is he guarding then with all of that?”

My lips barely twitched.

“Misery and desire… Sure, there should be happy couples, but fuck, open Grindr to see all the cheating men, you hear of the women who broke men’s hearts, the trans children disowned and living in the streets, the sex workers like yourself who are given no chance. All for the family… But which one of them is the ideal one to lead us? There isn’t even a structure to support, it’s just fear. We are built with flaws to believe in morality, which doesn’t exist.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I was getting annoyed at the sudden shift of people focusing on Axel and Roxas' age gap to be honest, after people had been shipping them for ages without touching actually taboo things, so I enjoy giving myself a challenge and explore some dark twists, merely that. I do not want anyone to... look after underage rent boys and etc. This is merely a work of art and something to ponder about and get your own conclusion from it. It's a work of fiction and thoughts. That's all.


End file.
